


Deinzaamnax

by flirtygaybrit



Category: Aquaman (2018), DC Extended Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Human/Monster Romance, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Rough Oral Sex, Worldbuilding, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26031286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flirtygaybrit/pseuds/flirtygaybrit
Summary: King Orm has a very special request, and King Nereus has a very special seadragon.
Relationships: Nereus/Nereus's Seadragon, Orm Marius/Nereus, Orm Marius/Nereus's Seadragon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15
Collections: Fifth DCEU Fanworks Exchange





	Deinzaamnax

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linndechir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/gifts).



> This was a ridiculous and delightful mix of prompts to mash together (who doesn't love Atlantean worldbuilding and monsterfucking?) and I sincerely hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. ♥

“‘Pity not the great octopod for her endless toil, as through her sacrifice she shall live on in the memory of her spawn; think instead to pity the biped who—’”

“Or pity the young and foolish Atlantean trespasser”—said King Nereus of Xebel, turning his head to eye the swiftly-closing doorway through which King Orm Marius of Atlantis had arrived mere moments before—“who breaches the privacy of a closed room and expects its occupant to entertain his presence.”

Orm smiled and rested his trident, which gleamed faintly even in the low light of the room, against the nearest wall. He then offered his spread hands as a gesture of peace. He was not a welcome guest at present, and had not only arrived without warning, but had entered a private space without invitation. The private space of a king, no less. Only diplomacy would allow his offense to slip from Nereus’s back as water from a fowl’s feathers. He hoped.

“Then won’t you?”

King Nereus, affecting contemplation rather than revealing his immediate irritation, pressed his lips into a thin line. Orm was confident that he did not disapprove; there was something too similar to curiosity in the creases of his eyes to suggest that he truly wished to be left in peace. There were few meetings that began so suddenly and unexpectedly as this, and Nereus, unlike his royal predecessor, was quick to forgive when given good reason.

Orm knew this well.

“Sit,” Nereus said after a lengthy pause. His eyes traveled to the sole seat that occupied the small room, and as Orm drifted further in, he turned his head away and exhaled a slow and controlled breath. “But you’ll wait until we’ve finished. And I expect that you won’t be reciting anything else unless I permit it.”

“Understood. My business is that of a personal nature.”

“Then you’ll wait until we’re alone.”

Nereus was referring, of course, to the room’s third occupant: a cephalopod of Xebelian lineage nearly as wide as Orm was tall, with muscular appendages the approximate size of each of his thighs. She, Orm knew, was the one called Waraki, the suction therapist who often worked closely to maintain and improve physical fitness and performance for many upper-class Xebelian citizens, and although it was not the first time Orm had witnessed the results of her technique, it was the first time he had witnessed them up close.

Orm smiled. He sat. He had a great amount of patience to spare today. Indeed, he savoured each second that passed as an ambush predator might, for he had brought with him into this room a tool that would allow him to ensnare Nereus in the most lethal of traps.

He watched Waraki perform her work in smug silence, though it was not the sinuous motion of her limbs that interested him; he eyed instead the physique of the king who lay before him, unabashedly nude—as was often the case in such private treatments, owing to the ocean inhabitants’ utter lack of interest in the bipedal form of the more advanced undersea races—and watched the flesh stretch and recoil and flush with blood from the octopod’s manipulation. Nereus, who rested with his head against his arms with all the ease and comfort with which a king could lounge, seemed upon first glance to be utterly at ease, until Waraki’s suction pads moved over his right shoulder. It was then and only then that Nereus’s body language changed; something rippled across his features and was lost in the lines of his face, but he had not disguised his response well enough to prevent Orm from noticing the way he shifted atop the tableau. 

It was a pain response, yes. But it was so much more. 

Orm smiled wider.

When at last the octopod had completed her work, Nereus spoke briefly to her in a language that Orm was only somewhat familiar with; they exchanged words—mostly unimportant, though Waraki tapped Nereus in three different places at the same time to illustrate a point—and at last she departed, leaving Nereus with little choice but to acknowledge Orm’s presence. 

“I sincerely hope you have a good reason for being here,” he said after turning a suspicious eye in Orm’s direction. “For your sake, not for mine.”

“Of course,” said Orm, still smiling in as bland and inconspicuous a manner as he could muster. “Is this space secure?”

“It is. Or was, before you arrived.”

“Excellent. I expect that my presence here, as well as the conversation we are to have shortly, will not find its way into the public eye.”

King Nereus regarded him with a stern curiosity. Slowly, he pushed himself upright and then propelled himself to the distant corner of the room, where his clothing floated carelessly in the water; it was an understated, simple fabric outfit denoting his royal house and status, the sort suitable only for private audiences and intimate encounters. It would easily cover the bruising that was already beginning to darken the flesh of his back and thighs, but Orm was not concerned about that. He was more interested in Nereus’s shoulders; broad, sturdy, straight as a swordfish’s bill… and decorated with a number of sizeable scratches and scars, some long faded to razor-thin lines and others pink with new scar tissue. A single fresh scratch stretching from the bottom of his shoulder blade to the top of his shoulder oozed a thin wisp of blood.

Nereus did not appear to have noticed. If he did, he simply said nothing. 

“You must have passed by someone on your way in. Did you evade all of the royal guard, or only some?”

“I counted two.”

“Then two will understand the importance of discretion.” Nereus pulled on the glittering undershirt with ease. “But I suspect you haven’t come to attend a diplomatic summit. So let us speak plainly.”

Orm, eyeing the thick muscle that rippled along the king’s back, pushed himself out of his seat and drifted forward silently, with intent. “And speak we shall. But first we should address this blood in the water.”

The king turned, sensing Orm’s approach in the water’s current. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a terrible thing to see,” Orm said airily. “A hazard, no doubt, to inhale in great volumes. Yet it can’t be avoided at times, including in such a physical treatment.”

He flicked his gaze toward Nereus’s shoulder, and the king nodded. 

“Ah. Well, a simple accident and no more.”

“Do you allow all of your employees to treat you so indelicately?”

“Of course,” Nereus said. He turned away and continued to dress himself, and Orm continued to watch. “When it benefits me. You may not understand, King Orm, being as young and convinced of your own indestructibility as you are, but I have nothing but respect and gratefulness for her craft and her services. Or the services of anyone who exhibits such mastery in so valuable a practice.”

“The pearl is most often created from grit,” Orm agreed, breaking Nereus’s rule against reciting. “Of course. An invaluable service, making her an indispensable member of the royal Xebelian court. But I wonder if there aren’t… other services that would prove so valuable as to earn one a quiet position beneath the king. Or…”

Orm moved his gaze unsubtly down the front of Nereus’s chest and abdomen and lingered contemplatively on his groin before shifting back up. The expression on Nereus’s face suggested that he would be wise to put some distance between them. Naturally, Orm had no interest in doing so. 

“...perhaps _beneath_ the king.”

It felt impossible that Nereus’s expression could fall further into a state of suspicion and so it was all the more satisfying for Orm when it did.

“I have little time to spare for your riddles and obfuscation. You’ve bypassed my guard and interrupted my private affairs. Speak.”

Orm drew closer still, and Nereus did not make any attempt to move him aside; he pressed himself along the length of Nereus’s body, and used the gentle propulsion to back the king against the nearest wall.

“Let me tell you a secret. I’m interested in something of yours,” he murmured. He arched himself against Nereus in such a way as to make his interest known, and found himself immeasurably thrilled when the king gripped his waist with a hand strong enough to snap bone. He could feel Nereus beginning to stir, stiffening beneath the pressure of his body, and was unable to keep himself from smiling as he brushed his mouth against Nereus’s ear. “Oh, King Nereus. I know you understand the value of direct action. You’ve never been one for adulation, yet you flatter me. And still...”

Orm dug his nails into the back of Nereus’s shoulder. He could feel the scars beneath his fingertips, both old and new, and heard Nereus hiss as he raked his fingernails across the lines. 

Blood began to cloud the water. Nereus’s body trembled briefly, and his cock jumped against Orm’s body. 

Orm grinned.

“I have come to deliver a proposition. Oh, fret not,” he said as Nereus’s grip grew painful and a growl rumbled low in his lungs, “I understand well your concern. A rival monarch capable of penetrating the advanced defences of your kingdom, forcing you unexpectedly into a vulnerable position to—hrrk!”

Orm had little time to react to the hand on his throat and less time to brace himself against the force that followed. King Nereus hurled him across the room with such great power and velocity that the wall shuddered and cracked as Orm slammed into it, sending a small burst of glittering shards into the water around him. The impact knocked the water from his lungs and caused his trident to shudder sympathetically where it rested near the door, but although Orm was quickly prepared to fend off a second attack, he was less prepared to find that Nereus, who had simply remained in place, did not appear to be advancing.

“You’re out of luck,” the great king warned in a voice so low and dangerous that it sent a shiver down Orm’s spine. “I have no interest in your superfluous exposition. And Xebel’s borders are not open to Atlantean visitors, regardless of the concern you seem to understand so well.”

“New decree?”

“As of now, yes.”

“That will improve Xebel’s economy greatly.”

“And it will improve my sleep knowing that you are not skulking about these waters attempting to…” Nereus gestured with a grimace, indicating that he had not yet determined what it was that Orm was doing, but had some suspicions and greatly disapproved all the same. “Whatever you’re doing. Regardless, I suggest you make yourself scarce before someone decides to investigate the noise.”

Orm swept forward and stopped before the door, then paused and lifted his trident, turning to Nereus as though remembering something he’d forgotten. “Perhaps you’ll tell me, then, speaking as one king to another… is the great ruler of Xebel susceptible to bribery?”

“No,” Nereus said.

“Blackmail?”

Nereus, looking interested, folded his arms over his chest and, though maintaining a wary distance, floated closer. “Perhaps. What information do you think you could reveal that would destroy my reputation and career?”

Orm gave a ghastly smile and closed the distance between them. “Blood in the water. The cuts on your back. A trivial thing at first glance, but I know that Waraki is not to blame for such a gruesome display. I admit that it interests me, but I’ve never had occasion to ask… do the good people of Xebel question your soldiers’ relationship with their mounts, or is it simply understood that only the king is permitted to fuck his warhorse?”

Nereus narrowed his eyes, and his gaze felt as if it could vaporize the water between them.

“Believe me when I say I have no interest in exploiting your secret for political gain,” Orm said, spreading his hands—trident included—in a placating gesture. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but—”

“Your proposition.”

Nereus’ face had quickly taken on the countenance of a thunderstorm. Orm had great difficulty in stifling his triumph, but understood the importance of feigning ignorance. 

He rested his trident against the ground.

“Are you interested in listening?”

He needn’t have asked. He knew the answer already.

•

On the outermost reaches of the kingdom of Xebel, the greater seadragons roamed in a vast pasture enclosed within a barely-visible field of hydromagnetic energy. This was where many of the domesticated creatures utilized for the Xebelian army were bred, born, and raised, and often where they were trained to respond to riders and reins. Smaller roaming grounds had proven insufficient in the past for both diet and exercise, and the strange, sprawling topography provided an excellent—if perilous—landscape in which riders and steeds alike could hone their skills.

King Nereus knew the pasture well. He knew by memory many of the jagged cliffs and coral reefs, the shallow fissures and crags of the rocky ocean floor, and the cool, shadowed spaces which lay beneath the canopies of broad-leafed flora, populated by small, luminescent creatures and great fungal colonies and mossy grottos. He knew, too, that there were sprawling tunnel systems and caverns deep beneath the surface. He had navigated them many times on his own, had cleared certain caverns of their previous inhabitants for safe passage, and had declared more unsafe for traversing. 

Most importantly, he knew of the areas that many did not, and he knew just as well the privacy that they afforded.

It had been foolish of King Orm to make such a request. The monogamous lifestyle of most intelligent seadragons was not uncommon knowledge, and so his curiosity—if Nereus had indeed understood that to be the heart of his request, rather than the flowery jumble of words that Orm had arranged into something resembling a sentence—would hardly be satisfied by any of the dragons currently being utilized by the royal army. Most were of an age to have mated already, and those who were able to had done so and would lack interest in a different partner, even when directly stimulated. 

Yes, foolish. Orm would be utterly unsatisfied, and would likely attempt to disguise his tantrum with more bloviating, but it would not change anything. Nereus now knew something that Orm would not wish for others to discover. He had not been blackmailed, but gifted an opportunity… but Orm Marius was intelligent and rarely acted without motivation. It was not a request he would have made unless he were certain that he had leverage, and Nereus knew that he would be wise to remain on guard, no matter the case.

“He won’t bite, if that’s your concern,” Nereus said. 

Orm, who now floated before Deinzaamnax, the seadragon that had served Nereus as both mount and a military equal for the better part of two decades, looked as offended as if he had been nipped in the backside regardless. He was dwarfed by the dragon’s size, as most men were; Amnax’s head was easily the size of Orm’s torso, and the wicked, spiralling horns that marked him as a prized stallion looked to be nearly as long and thick as Orm’s arm. His scaled tail swished lazily in the water, stirring nearby flora that grew in strange hues of yellow and orange from the dark rock, and the dragon’s pectoral fins fluttered rather majestically to allow him to maintain balance as he alighted on a rock formation that jutted from the floor.

He looked utterly relaxed. King Orm, however, did not.

“Truly a wonder of nature, this species,” mused the Atlantean king. He floated forward, approaching—wisely—from the side, but the dispassion he currently feigned looked as if it would be short-lived; Amnax’s keen eye gleamed in the low light and followed the hand that Orm reached out to rest on the bony projections that rose from his snout. “An intelligence unmatched by so many creatures, and with years of training… years of bonding… they make a fine companion.”

“And a formidable opponent,” Nereus agreed. He folded his arms over his chest and watched Orm run his fingers along the dragon’s ridged brow. The young king’s face had taken on a particularly curiois light upon capturing Amnax’s attention, and visible interest swelled within him and puffed his chest like a fish’s bladder. “Have you ridden one?”

“Years ago, though never unsaddled.” Orm kicked himself up higher and Amnax craned his neck to watch. The seadragon’s saddle and barding had been removed prior to their meeting, as Nereus had years of experience riding scaleside and often felt more comfortable with the bulk of the dragon’s muscle shifting between his thighs, especially on more leisurely excursions. It was not necessarily easier to maneuver a wild seadragon in this manner, especially not for a rider used to the sort of beast that Orm himself commanded, but it was amusing to see Orm struggling to seat himself comfortably atop the shoulders of the stallion, who had grown disinterested and now stretched his neck to rub his chin against the scales of his chest. 

“Does the experience meet your expectations so far?”

Orm looked down at Nereus from atop Amnax’s shoulders with a small, confident smile. “I’ve mounted more resistant steeds, as you know. And tamed them. Yet...” He ran his fingers along the thick scales that lined Amnax’s neck and rested a palm between the dragon’s shoulders. “I envy you, King Nereus. To wield such undeniable power… to have forged so powerful a bond over the course of decades through countless military triumphs... and defeats.”

Nereus cleared his throat. The dragon shifted his weight and shook his head as though on cue, causing a bit of loose rock to crumble beneath his long, webbed toes. As Orm pushed himself up and drifted around the front once more to inspect the creature eye-to-eye, Nereus chuckled and sat back against a portion of the cavern wall that had grown a soft, downy layer of moss. “He’s humbled by your sincerity. If I’m being honest, I would have expected you to boast endlessly about your own partner in battle.”

“Yes, well… we are most often fascinated by that which we are unfamiliar with,” Orm said, and Nereus simply smiled. Orm’s great scaled steed had been too wide to properly enter the mouth of the cavern that Deinzaamnax had easily woven through, and it had obviously wounded his pride to continue alone with Nereus and the dragon. Nereus, on the other hand, had never been more delighted. 

Orm settled on his feet on the rocky cavern floor and began to disrobe. He had dressed lightly in only a small amount of armour—not flashy and ceremonial, as he often wore, nor heavy enough to suggest that he expected serious trouble—and set it aside with slow, certain movements. Nereus watched him with mild interest; it seemed to him that Orm was making a spectacular effort to disguise his intentions, and yet was failing spectacularly instead.

“I must say,” Nereus said after a moment passed, “I find myself wondering precisely what you aim to achieve by threatening me, when you could have simply asked.”

Orm was bare from shoulder to waist now, and his position gave Nereus a clear view of the smooth, pale flesh of his back. The Atlantean monarch had seen his share of battle and possessed a number of scars that others would have displayed with pride. He was a veritable war hero, and Nereus knew it well; he had fought alongside Orm at times, and against him at others. He was a fierce opponent, a tactical genius. And an utter imbecile, it seemed, regarding sensitive discussions about intimacy. 

“The historical tomes have neglected to mention that Xebel’s armies tamed seadragons because they preferred gentle lovers. I thought it logical to assume that you preferred that information remain confidential.”

Nereus shrugged. “I understand it’s considered… improper etiquette among many of the captains in Atlantis. Elders especially. And little wonder why. You’d flay yourself alive trying to fuck those attack pups you ride. Yours, well, I simply wouldn’t take a chance with.”

“Yet you would follow in the current of your ancestors, and allow something such as…”

He carefully did not look at the seadragon that loomed patiently behind him, but he did not have to. Even Amnax snorted dubiously, and tossed his head with a quiet warble.

_You won’t provoke me, and you certainly won’t provoke him_ , Nereus thought, and grinned wider, drumming his fingers upon his thigh. “Regardless, what the Xebelians of old did is not my concern. What concerns me is the resilience and reliability of a species that knows more than biting and tearing. Creatures that possess tactical intelligence, much like you and I, who are as loyal to riders as they are to mates.”

“And function as both.”

“For some,” Nereus acquiesced.

This time Orm glanced back at Nereus. The corner of his mouth lifted, and Nereus was reminded suddenly that Orm very much belonged amidst the sharks. His look was that of a cold-blooded predator, and for all his blistering, he had almost certainly sharpened his teeth for such an occasion. “And for you?”

“I’m not sure. What do you think?” Nereus asked, turning his attention to Amnax. The dragon, having grown bored of waiting like a prized pony, gave a disapproving nicker and took flight. His powerful hind legs and tail propelled him easily through the water, and so it did not take him any time to cross the cavern and disappear into the distant dark of the tunnel. And that was his answer, it seemed.

Orm did not seem to understand. His brow creased as Amnax rounded a corner and slid out of sight and he spun to face Nereus with genuine offense written in his features. “Where is he going?”

Nereus crossed his legs and lifted his shoulders once more, which seemed to make Orm even more irritated. “Who can say for sure? Perhaps to find a more suitable mate. One who doesn’t waste his time making idle chatter and preening like a guppy. You may put on a pretty performance for someone like me, but the seadragons of Xebel are far less patient than I am, and just as keen. And far less interested in dancing around the subject. As I said, you could have simply asked.”

Orm’s face settled into cold, controlled neutrality.

“Asked what?”

“To fuck my warhorse. That is what all of this has been about, isn’t it? You’re here, he’s here… you’re welcome to do as you please, and he’ll put up little resistance, so long as you’re kind. And competent enough to couple. But I’m sure you understand well what he needs, or you wouldn’t have bothered smuggling yourself into Xebelian waters.”

In the distance, Deinzaamnax bleated, and a cold fury—or, more likely, embarrassment—flushed Orm’s face a pleasant colour.

“You think to make a fool of me,” he said stiffly.

“Of course not. If I’d wanted to make a fool of you, I would have let him fill you with his seed and watched you flounder after, unwilling to admit that you haven’t even the vaguest idea what to do with him because you don’t understand seadragon mating.”

“I understand what I’m doing.”

“You understand leverage and secrets, King Orm,” Nereus said, pushing himself upright. He was larger than Orm, though often the difference between them did not make itself apparent until they were in very close quarters. It did not mean that Orm was intimidated by him, and Orm was admittedly rather skilled at not sinking his teeth into anything dangled before him, but he was satisfied to see that Orm, who simply lifted his chin and held Nereus’s gaze, seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. 

And the importance of dropping his charade. 

“You think you’ve gained the advantage, and you enjoy using it to satisfy your childish whims. Yes, if there’s anything childish about this, it’s that you sincerely thought that you would blackmail me, and that I would be so desperate to keep my secrets that I would not only correct your accusations but elaborate on them. You think that you could hold my relationship with Deinzaamnax above me?”

Orm said nothing. Nereus snorted, gave Orm a brief once-over, then backed away. “You would be foolish to think that I would allow you to control me with something like that. And I know you’re not foolish. Arrogant, pretentious, but not foolish.”

“I did say,” Orm said after a deliberate silence, “that I did not wish to use such information against you for nefarious purposes. I simply thought you might be interested in sharing one of Xebel’s greatest military strengths with me.”

Nereus laughed again. This time it was sincere, and he laughed so loudly that Deinzaamnax, from the depths of the tunnel that lay deep beneath the ocean floor within Xebel’s borders, gave a great, echoing bellow in response.

“You thought I might be interested in sharing military secrets with the only other kingdom to rival us in military might. I’ll believe that,” Nereus murmured, watching as the seadragon’s horned snout and head emerged from the distant dark. “Yes, I’ll believe that. Well, King Orm, this has been an unpleasantly roundabout way of asking for so intimate a favour, but I should have expected no less from you.” He turned, sensing Amnax’s approach, and lifted a hand high overhead. Orm’s eyes flicked up, then back to Nereus, and then up again as the seadragon bumped his head against his hand. 

“Understand that this is no easy decision. Tell me this, Orm Marius: should I trust you enough with this… should he be willing, most importantly… what should I expect from you in return?”

Orm managed to remove his gaze from the seadragon that loomed behind Nereus long enough to catch his eye. 

Then the corner of King Orm’s mouth lifted.

•

King Nereus gripped Orm’s hair with such viciousness that it was as if he were trying to pull it out, but Orm was not deterred. He did not mind the discomfort. In fact, he barely noticed it.

His attention was captivated instead by the thick, heavy weight of Nereus’s cock inside his mouth. Nereus had not been gentle with him thus far, and even now he thrusted firmly, but carefully. He moved with the might of a king, a military commander, using Orm’s mouth and throat precisely as he pleased. It was not a difficult feat for Orm to remain still; he simply had nowhere to go. Nereus, with both hands bracing his skull, occupied him at his front, and his back was pressed against an unforgiving wall of scales—the heaving abdomen of Deinzaamnax, whose own thick cock penetrated him from behind. It was only one of three, and even now Orm knew that he had made the correct decision in choosing not to test more.

He could not have moved if he had desired it, but he was immensely satisfied in precisely the position he was in.

The seadragon made a horrendous sound far above Orm, though he did not know the precise location of the creature’s head. He knew, vaguely, that the muscular hindlimbs of the dragon framed him, and that the dragon’s powerful, prehensile tail was what held the triad in place, wrapped firmly around some jutting rock or similar surface; the force of Amnax’s thrusts would have sent him through the cave wall otherwise, but Nereus seemed to understand precisely how to counteract the force. He held Orm by the head and fucked his mouth with low, satisfied groans, and Orm swallowed the heavy brine taste of him eagerly, well aware that he would have been unable to muffle his own noises but for the cock in his throat. He was full, it felt, to bursting; Amnax’s cock felt as if it could pierce his ribcage, and pulsed threateningly with a heat that rivalled little else that Orm had ever felt. Amnax’s second and third cocks, bigger even than the first, slid slickly against his thighs, undulating gently, seeking entrance. He knew enough about seadragons to understand the risk that would have been involved in attempting to take more than one. He had plans—somewhere, in the nonfunctional part of his mind capable of rational decision—to bide his time and test his boundaries at a later date. For now, this was more than acceptable.

A shudder rose along the length of Orm’s spine. Amnax thrusted again, and so did Nereus. The forces canceled out. Orm remained in place, and the very water around them seemed to vibrate with excitement.

“Easy... is he getting close?” King Nereus asked breathlessly.

Orm could not say whether he was or not. In fact, Orm could not say for sure whether the question was aimed at him or at the dragon impaling him. Nereus’s cock touched the back of his throat, threatening to gag him, and he gripped Nereus’s thigh and dragged his fingernails through the coarse reddish hair that covered Nereus from thigh to ankle—delighting in the texture of it, as his body so similar to and yet so unlike that of a pure-blooded Atlantean’s—and swallowed hard.

“Yes,” Nereus breathed, then withdrew suddenly, causing Orm to cough and gasp for breath. “Yes, he is. Hurry.”

Though Orm had not yet climaxed, it took a moment for him to recall how to properly coordinate his limbs and propel himself away. He could feel the heat building, impossibly, within Amnax’s cock, and he knew that he would be tempting fate to remain impaled on him this way any longer. He gripped one of the heavy ventral scales that lined Amnax’s belly and lifted himself, and the dragon gave a deafening screech that shook him to his core… yet the seadragon could not hold him in place with his dorsal fins, and so Orm moved aside so that Nereus, who possessed far more experience, wisdom, and expertise, could position himself beneath Amnax’s belly. He watched as Nereus reached for one of the dragon’s cocks—long, subtly textured with ridges and bumps, the same colour as the iridescent fins that lined the stallion’s back and head—and pulled it beneath himself with a look of great concentration. The others, each emitting wisps of a bluish, cloudy substance, whipped back and forth with desperation, curling around Nereus’s thighs and undulating against his pelvis.

It looked comfortable for him, somehow. He looked as much at ease beneath Amnax as he had sitting atop his shoulders.

“Easy, Amnax, be careful,” Nereus said, and the dragon responded by snapping his jaws and roaring again. Now a safe distance away, Orm watched as Nereus’s face twisted from an expression of discomfort to one of bliss while above him, Deinzaamnax’s legs flexed, and the creature thrust powerfully into Nereus, again and again, holding tightly to the rock with his webbed feet and tail to balance the force of his motion.

“Come on,” Nereus called up, bracing himself beneath the dragon’s scales, “you’re almost there, I can feel you, give it—”

Amnax roared and thrashed his head. The dorsal fins along his neck and back flared and seemed to glow brighter in colour for the briefest of moments, and just as Nereus bared his teeth and cried out, the water around them exploded in a cloud of brilliant luminescence; the dragon’s release swirled in the currents created by the quick, corrective fluttering of Amnax’s pectoral fins and cast a dim light in all directions, illuminating the jagged cavern walls and gleaming as it was reflected on the seadragon’s scales. Orm could hear Nereus panting and moaning still, though he was temporarily obscured by the cloud of seed that the seadragon had released, and began to stroke himself in time to Amnax’s powerful climactic thrusts, watching raptly as the pair climaxed together.

He followed suit quickly, still able to feel how Amnax’s cock had stretched and pulsed and threatened to release such a deluge within him… and though his climax was less spectacular, it was equally as powerful. And equally as satisfying to experience.

Slowly, the current began to clear the cloud of release, and Amnax, panting in loud, deep huffs, began to settle. Nereus became visible shortly after, lazily waving away the soft glow that permeated the water around him, and though Orm could see Amnax’s secondary cocks still leaking some small trails of luminescent seed, Nereus himself looked immensely satisfied; he moved slowly and carefully away, revealing one of Amnax’s primary cock, which itself continued to emit a slightly different hue in the water, and pushed himself up to Amnax’s scaled head. 

“There you are,” Nereus said, his voice low and rough and breathless. “Thank you. Thank you.” The dragon, eyeing his partner with apparent fondness, opened his beak and closed it over Nereus’s shoulder. Nereus laughed quietly, exhausted, and remained in place against the seadragon for a moment. It was a display of tenderness that Orm had been surprised by, the first time he had witnessed it; Nereus did not strike him as an affectionate man, but the way that he held and spoke to his steed left little space for speculation. There was a bond that had been forged between them that should have been evident to anyone who saw them together. Now, Orm could not imagine how he had ever missed it.

At last, Nereus gave the seadragon a brief rub along the jaw before pulling away, but not without some difficulty; though he managed to pull free (with an exhausted, fond smile that suggested Amnax had done such things before), the sharp, tooth-like projections on the outside of the dragon’s mouth left a scratch—a thin, delicate line of red along the king’s shoulder.

The blood drifted through the water and dissipated. Nereus hardly seemed to notice.

“I envy you,” Orm said as Nereus drew closer. He had not expected to utter such a sentiment, but he had not expected to experience what he had in this cavern “Truly. You know him so well.”

Nereus ran his fingers through his hair, shaking free the lingering luminescence that clung to the strands. “You shouldn’t. I’m hardly better at knowing which will be the right one even now. Misjudge your time or choose the wrong appendage, and the consequences can be dire. There’s always a risk involved no matter how well you know your steed.”

Orm was not referring to his proficiency with seadragon genitals, but he suspected Nereus understood that.

“You’ve made that mistake before,” Orm said instead. It was neither a question nor a statement. He was curious now in a way that he had never been, and Nereus hummed affirmatively as he settled back in the water near him. “And I’ve paid for it. As have many others, though my price was less severe.” His gaze grew distant, and a faint smile crossed his face as he gazed at Amnax, who had fluttered down from the rock and was grooming himself, utterly disinterested in the conversation that was taking place. “But I wouldn’t have anyone else. Not now.”

Orm gazed at the seadragon and nodded slowly. He had been wrong before; the closely-guarded secret of the Xebelians and their dragons was not the carnal relationship that they shared, but the passion that developed alongside it. It was obvious enough that Nereus was highly protective of Deinzaamnax, but it had taken many days and many secretive meetings to see him so unguarded as he was now. So free with his affection, his desire.

“I feel there is a… an honour in having shared this experience with you,” Orm admitted. He could not recall having shared any similar experiences, and he suspected that few would match the intensity of this one.

To his surprise, Nereus chuckled. It felt warm, warmer than any of their precious exchanges. He was finally starting to see Nereus’s good side. “An honour, is that so.”

“I should think so,” Orm said. He looked sideways at Nereus, eyeing the scratch along his shoulder. He had not bothered to count, and did not wish to estimate how many marked his skin, reminders of couplings past. “It is a great honour to share a king and his dragon.”

Nereus nodded slowly, and seemed to contemplate that. “It is,” he agreed, gazing at Deinzaamnax with no little amount of fondness. Then he looked back at Orm and smiled. “Though I admit... I’ve never shared a dinosaur with a king.”

Orm thought about it.

He rather liked the thought.


End file.
